


If There's A Forever

by bizzybee



Series: Dorogrid Week 2020 [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Calypso Au, F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Gen, Greek Mythology AU, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 08:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24347986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bizzybee/pseuds/bizzybee
Summary: After being abruptly ripped from her life as a rising opera star, Dorothea’s days are filled with simple things: the beach, picking fruit, sleeping and eating and waiting. She waits, half-wishing, half-dreading, for the next person to wash up on her shores. Inevitably, they’ll leave. Inevitably, Dorothea will be left alone again.It doesn’t mean she doesn’t hope, though. After all, hope is the only constant in a sea of unknowns.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Series: Dorogrid Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1757857
Comments: 8
Kudos: 61





	If There's A Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Dorogrid Week Day One: Greek Mythology AU
> 
> Happy Dorogrid Week! I'll be publishing a brand-new oneshot every day!

* * *

**_Horsebow Moon, 1178_ **

* * *

Dorothea’s nothing short of surprised when the Imperial princess herself washes up on her shore. Dorothea doubts that she recognizes her. She’s not sure how long it’s been, stuck on the island, and they only met once, when they were both much younger. 

They look the same age now, though, so Dorothea reckons she should be grateful that her island isn’t outside of the concepts of time. Apparently, the Church of Seiros has those powers, now. 

“Lady Edelgard?” Dorothea calls, waves lapping at her ankles as she lifts her skirts with one hand, pulling Edelgard, who’s looking quite terrified, out of the shallows with the other arm.

Edelgard doesn’t answer. Instead, she shivers, her arms clutched around her chest, eyes wide. “I don’t… where- I fell… the water-” 

“Here.” Dorothea leads her to one of the white linen cots on the beach. “Sit down. Rest easy.” 

Dorothea waits and watches, kneeling in front of Edelgard but too scared to touch her while she rocks back and forth, breath quickening and then slowly calming. When Edelgard’s shoulders finally slump and her hands fall to her lap, Dorothea chances a hand on her knee. 

“Are you all right?” Dorothea asks.

“S- sorry.” She’s stil shaking, but Dorothea recognizes it as shivering from the cool breeze on wet skin. “I’m not sure what happened-”

“Here,” Dorothea says. “I can- One second. I’ll light a fire.” 

Brushing off her hands on her skirt, Dorothea stands, crossing to her home and taking firewood from where it’s piled against the outside wall. She conjures a fire spell, lighting a small bonfire at Edelgard’s feet. 

“Better?” she asks. 

“Better,” Edelgard confirms. She scoots down the cot and Dorothea takes a seat. 

They sit in silence, watching the fire and listening as the crickets begin chirping, the sun sinking towards the horizon. 

“You called me by my name,” Edelgard says . 

“Yes.”

“Am I in the Empire?”

Dorothea purses her lips. “I’m not sure.” 

Edelgard hums in disbelief. 

“I’ve been here awhile. They didn’t exactly tell me what country I’d be in when they dumped me.”

“Who exactly is ‘they’?”

“Oh. Um, the Church of Seiros.”

“Oh.”

“What do you remember in that pretty little head of yours?” Dorothea asks. “Before you landed here, I mean. I haven’t seen anyone in, oh, almost a year.”

“Not much.” Edelgard wrinkles her brow. 

Dorothea reaches over, pressing a finger between Edelgard’s eyes. “Don’t scrunch your brow. You’re too beautiful to wrinkle.” 

Edelgard lets her face smooth, a small giggle escaping her. “I feel old enough that wrinkles would be a blessing and a confirmation, not exactly a curse.” 

“How old are you?” 

“Fifteen.” 

“Me too.” 

They pause. 

“We’ve met before,” Dorothea says, staring at the fire before her, sky growing darker by the minute. “When we were both younger, a few years ago. You probably don’t remember.”

“I wish I could say I do,” Edelgard says, turning towards her. “I apologize. You’re certainly beautiful enough to remember.”

“Oh, stop,” Dorothea smiles wryly. “When did you dye your hair?”

She senses more than sees Edelgard freeze beside her. “Dye?”

“It was brown,” Dorothea says. “Mouse-brown. When we met.” 

A beat.

“So why are you on this island, anyway? What did you do?” 

Dorothea’s smart enough to recognize a change in subject when she hears one. “I didn’t ‘do’ anything.” She props her head up in her hands. “My parents did, apparently. I didn’t even know them, but I’m the one who’s punished for it.”

“Didn’t your parents get punished?”

“Just killed, as far as I’ve been able to piece together. You don’t have to say you’re sorry, though.” 

“I wasn’t going to.” 

“Good. They were the worst. Didn’t even know who they were until I was sent here.”

Edelgard hums.

“Sorry for asking about your hair.” Dorothea winces, eyes still trained on the fire. “I only meant to tell you it looks pretty, now. Blonde hair suits you.” 

Edelgard shifts. She doesn’t answer. 

The sky is well and truly dark when Edelgard speaks again.

“I can’t stay here.” 

“How are you going to get back?” Dorothea asks, and she tries to tamp down the desperation rising in her at the thought of being alone again.

“I don’t know. I just can’t.” Edelgard glances at her, then back at the fire. “You can come with me, if you want.” 

“I can’t.” 

“I can hide you from the church.” 

“You can’t.”

Edelgard huffs, raising her chin. “Fine. Suit yourself.” 

Dorothea’s eyes start to sting. She takes a breath, then stands. “I’m going to bed. This cot’s yours.”

“Oh- Dorothea,” Edelgard says, her voice commanding like Dorothea’s sure she’s been trained.

“It’s fine, Lady Edelgard-”

“Edelgard.”

“What?”

“Please, don’t use formalities with me.”

“Well, then, _Edie_ , I’m gonna go get my beauty sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” She pauses, then quips, “Unless you’ve already moved on.” 

Dorothea doesn’t sleep that night. She watches the moon outside her window as it carves a trail across the sky, making shapes from the stars and hating this new kind of torture. 

When she emerges from her home, sleep deprived and starving, Edelgard is gone.

* * *

**_Lone Moon, 1180_ **

* * *

It’s almost two years before Dorothea sees another person. 

This one’s blonde, too, and surprises Dorothea one afternoon as she tends the fire in her home. 

“What is this place?” 

Dorothea turns, startled. “Edelgard?” 

They snort. “I’m, uh. Not the Imperial Princess.” They step closer, moving into the light. “I’m Ingrid.” They hold out their hand. 

Dorothea shakes it cautiously. “Dorothea.” 

They stand for a moment, and then Ingrid pulls their hand back, their cheeks glowing rosy in the afternoon light, wiping their hand off on their pants in a manner Dorothea is sure they think is inconspicuous. 

“Um, where am I?” Ingrid asks, leaning back against Dorothea’s table. Dorothea pulls the bowl of sliced vegetables out from behind them before they can knock it on the floor.

“I… don’t know.” Dorothea turns back to the fire, stringing up a pot. “Do you remember anything that happened? Before you got here?” She pours the vegetables into the pot.

Ingrid frowns, eyes turning towards the ceiling as they think. “I was sailing. With Felix and Sylvain.” 

Dorothea hums. “Sailing?” 

“Yeah. That’s it.” 

Dorothea closes her eyes. “Okay.” Then she forces a smile and turns around. “You hungry?” 

“Always.” 

Once served, Ingrid scarfs down their plate so fast that Dorothea feels obligated to pass half of hers over. 

"Oh, no, that's alright," Ingrid says. "You go ahead."

"I insist, darling Ingrid." Dorothea spoons the mixed vegetables into their bowl. "I can always make some more once you've gone." 

"Once I've gone?" Ingrid furrows their brow. 

Dorothea, once again, reaches out a finger, pressing it against the bridge of Ingrid's nose. Ignoring Ingrid's question, she says, "Don't furrow your brow. You'll wrinkle, handsome."

Ingrid frowns, accentuating those lines. Dorothea laughs. 

"Where am I?" Ingrid asks for a second time. "I, um. Kind of feel like you're avoiding my questions?" 

"I'm not-" Dorothea shakes her head. "Apologies. I don't mean to avoid your questions. I'm not sure where you are." 

"Dead?" 

Dorothea snorts. "No, you're not dead." She considers this. "Or, at least, I don't think you are. Can’t say with clarity.” 

“Oh.” 

Dorothea smiles. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like, though.” 

Ingrid glances around. “It’s nice here.” 

Dorothea’s heart lifts. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

They both pause. 

“I can’t,” Ingrid blurts. 

Dorothea’s heart falls. 

“It’s only, I mean, I’m going to become a knight.” There’s a glimmer of excitement in Ingrid’s eyes, now, and Dorothea’s heart sinks further and further. “And I’m going to Garreg Mach Monastery for training next moon. Have you, um, heard of it?” 

“Yes,” Dorothea says, smiling sadly. “I have.”

“I’m not sure how I’ll leave, though. Do you have… a boat? Or anything like that?”

“If I had a boat, sweetheart, do you really think I’d still be here?” Dorothea winks. 

“Point.” Ingrid bites their lip, staring down at their empty plate. “I can figure out something.” 

“I’m sure you will,” Dorothea says, half to herself. “I’m sure you will.” 

The next morning, though, Ingrid’s still there. 

“I, um, thought I’d stay another day,” they say when Dorothea exits her home to see them, breeches rolled to their knees as they stand in the shallows of the sea. “If that’s alright with you.” 

Dorothea blinks, startled, then brushes her hair away from her face. “Oh! I mean, yes. Sure. You can stay as long as you want.”

She makes an extra serving of breakfast this time. 

Ingrid’s not gone the next day, either. Dorothea dares not hope, even when Ingrid says they’ll just be here for one more day, and then move on. 

She dares not hope, even when Ingrid asks her where she’s going and what she’s doing when they see her with a basket. 

She dares not hope, even when Ingrid joins her to pick fruit and dig vegetables from the ground on the other side of the island. 

She dares not hope. 

“You’re not afraid of getting in the dirt, are you?” She asks Ingrid from her perch in an apple tree, watching as Ingrid digs out green onions from the ground with their bare hands.

Ingrid looks up, a small, shy grin on their face. “Not really. Besides,” and there’s that flush, spreading across their cheeks like a drop of paint in water, “I don’t want you to ruin your hands.”

Dorothea raises her eyebrows. “My hands? I’ll have you know, Ingrid, I’ve been doing my own gardening for a long time before you got here, and when you leave, I’ll be doing it again.” 

Ingrid’s smile freezes. They give Dorothea a curiously sad sort of look, one that Dorothea doesn’t know how to read. 

The next day, Ingrid’s still there. 

They insist on cooking Dorothea breakfast. Dorothea has to close her eyes for a moment at the sight of Ingrid, stirring the pot of food over the fire, humming a quiet tune to themself. 

“Good morning,” she says from the doorway. 

Ingrid turns, beaming. “Morning! I’m making breakfast.” 

“I can see that.” Dorothea leans in, trying to take a peek at what’s cooking over Ingrid’s shoulder.

“It’s soup.”

It looks like mush, but Dorothea doesn’t tell them that. “Looks yummy.” 

“Really?” Ingrid turns their head, cheek brushing against Dorothea’s. 

“Really.” Ingrid’s not looking at her, but Dorothea’s too busy watching their lips to follow Ingrid’s gaze. She watches as Ingrid wets them with their tongue. Watches as they fret one between their teeth. Watches those freckles stand out against the ridge of their nose. Watches until Ingrid shifts, turning back to the food. 

She lifts her head from their shoulder and takes a seat at the table. 

“So what’s on our agenda for the day?” Ingrid asks. 

_Our agenda._

“The usual, darling.” 

She can tell by the way the tips of Ingrid’s ears go red that they’re blushing. 

It’s akin to living in a bubble, Dorothea thinks. She knows Ingrid can’t stay, knows they won’t, knows that every time they say they’re just here for one more day, they could very well mean it. 

But even still, all she can see is Ingrid’s eyes, round and warm and green. All she can hear is their laugh, ringing through the trees of Dorothea’s orchard when Dorothea tries to tease them. It’s overwhelming, how much Dorothea has missed the company of another person. It’s not only that, though. Dorothea knows even after Ingrid leaves, she’ll be missing them. 

Dorothea doesn’t bring it up again until an entire week has passed. 

They’re sitting at the table, and Ingrid’s smiling over the table at Dorothea, mouth full. 

“Ingrid,” Dorothea says carefully. “Darling. Can I ask you something?”

Ingrid nods, chewing faster. 

“Why don’t you stay?” Dorothea sets down her fork. “With me, I mean.” 

Ingrid freezes. They swallow. 

“I enjoy your company,” Dorothea continues. “And I know you enjoy mine. We could stay here, together.” 

Ingrid blinks. “I…” 

“You don’t have to answer now, my Ingrid,” Dorothea says, resuming her eating. “Just… think about it, okay?” 

“I’m going to be a knight,” Ingrid blurts. 

“I know.” 

“But… I’ll think about it. For you.” 

Silence falls over them. When Ingrid wishes Dorothea goodnight, she wonders if they can see the hope in her eyes. 

In the morning, Ingrid is gone. 

Dorothea hates herself for hoping.

* * *

**_Wyvern Moon, 1180_ **

* * *

She doesn’t have to wait as long for her third guest. 

Mercedes is soft, she’s sweet and round and shows Dorothea how to make her own bread. 

In the end, she leaves because of her brother. She tells Dorothea that she’s finally found Emile, whoever that is. 

The day after, Dorothea marches as far into the water as she dare go. 

She’s never been a religious person, even before her imprisonment, but she’ll make an exception just this once. 

“Fucking Sothis,” she calls towards the heavens, hands cupped around her mouth. “If you’re even fucking listening.” She pauses for a moment, letting the waves lap over her waist. “No more fucking blondes!” 

She wades back to shore, shivering to her core. 

* * *

**_Garland Moon, 1181_ **

* * *

It’s almost funny when her next guest has the darkest blue hair she’s ever seen. 

It’s been so long, Dorothea’s almost forgotten about her prayer, but when the man grunts and introduces himself as “Felix,” it all comes rushing back. 

“Felix?” Dorothea says, and he looks at her like she’s stupid. “Ingrid’s Felix?” 

“How do you know Ingrid?” he says, looking her up and down. “They never mentioned you.”

“They were here,” Dorothea says. “Years ago.” 

Felix scoffs. “Okay.” 

“They really never mentioned me?” 

Felix shrugs, crossing his arms. “You’re not that memorable.” 

Dorothea rolls her eyes, turning on her heel. “Well, shit. Welcome to paradise, Felix. Stay as long as you want. Or leave.” 

The next morning, though, there’s coffee waiting for her on the table. 

She finds Felix sitting on the beach, a knife buried into the sand in front of him, just out of reach of the tide. 

"I can't stay here," he says, eyes on the ocean. Dorothea takes a seat next to him. "There's a war going on."

"Really?"

"Don't act like you didn't know." 

"I didn't." 

Felix harrumphs. He picks up the knife, twirling it on the palm of one hand then returning it to its sheath. "I have… people to protect." 

Dorothea hums. "Ingrid?" 

"They defected," Felix grits this out between his teeth, like it's painful. "Them and Sylvain." 

"Oh." 

"I'm the only one left. Just me and the Boar."

"The Boar?" 

Felix doesn't reply. Dorothea reaches out, but as soon as Felix feels the ghost of her hand on his shoulder, he jerks away. "Don't fucking touch me." 

Dorothea resists the urge to roll her eyes again. 

When Felix leaves, a heavy knot in Dorothea’s chest tightens.

* * *

**_Pegasus Moon, 1184_ **

* * *

Dorothea's beginning to believe that she's alone in the world, everyone dead in this supposed war, when a man with a mop of hair that blends into the sunset washes up her shores. 

Ferdinand von Aegir is an obnoxious fop, but, at the very least, he gives Dorothea information on the war. Even more than that, he gives her hope. 

Her hope comes in the form of Ferdinand’s rants, his speeches on what Edelgard is hoping to achieve, on the new future she’s carving a path towards. She wonders if maybe, just maybe, an end is in sight. She’s been on this island for so long - nearly a decade, by now, that she’s not sure if she even wants to see the outside world. 

And yet. 

And yet.

She can’t stop thinking of Ingrid, wondering where they are, wondering what they’re doing. If they’re even still alive. It’s war, after all. 

“Ferdie,” Dorothea says on his second day, over a pot of tea. “Has Edelgard ever mentioned me?” 

“Edelgard?” Ferdinand repeats. “Why?” 

“She came here. A long time ago.” 

“Peculiar.” Ferdinand leans back in his chair. “No, I cannot say she ever has.” 

Dorothea hums in response. 

She’s toying with a theory, one that she’s suspected ever since Felix came and went. 

If it’s true, she’ll be right, and might be able to save herself a bit of unnecessary heartbreak. 

If she’s wrong, then she read everything completely incorrectly, all those years ago. 

She pushes it out of her mind, though. Even if her theory is right, it doesn’t mean anything. It was years ago. It was _years_ ago. They’ve probably moved on. Right?

After three days, Ferdinand leaves.

Dorothea’s loneliness threatens to consume her. 

It’s not that she didn’t expect her hope to morph into something worse, something darker, once Ferdinand had left. But the uncertainty of her life, of her existence, of this fucking island, makes everything sink to the pit of Dorothea’s stomach and roll there like the waves she can hear from her window at night. 

And so she waits. 

And waits. 

And waits. 

* * *

**_Pegasus Moon, 1185_ **

* * *

And waits. 

* * *

**_Pegasus Moon, 1186_ **

* * *

And waits. 

* * *

**_Harpstring Moon, 1186_ **

* * *

Dorothea doesn’t recognize Edelgard at first. 

She’s taller now, but it’s not just that. She holds herself higher, her hair pulled up, the shivering girl Dorothea pulled out of the ocean gone. She looks like an emperor now, and it’s not hard for Dorothea to believe that she declared war on the Goddess herself. 

The next thing Dorothea notices after Edelgard is the boat she’s sailing in on. 

“Edie?” Dorothea calls from the shore, half wondering if she’s dreaming. 

Edelgard gives her a nod, barely perceptible from this distance, and soon enough she’s in a smaller, bumpier rowboat, being taken to shore by Ferdinand and another man, this one tall and gaunt and lanky, hair covering his eyes so fully that Dorothea’s surprised he can see. 

Dorothea’s not sure how to react after years of nothing, only for these three to set a record for the most number of people present on the island at a time. Ferdinand pulls her into a hug, Edelgard gives her a nod, and the lanky fellow says nothing, merely standing with his hands behind his back. 

“Dorothea,” Edelgard greets. 

“Edie.” 

“I have to extend an apology.” 

Dorothea’s brow creases. 

“It is only,” Edelgard frowns, hesitating. “Ferdinand? You explained it well enough to us on the way.” 

“You see, erm…” Ferdinand trails off, pulling his lower lip between his teeth and looking towards the sky. 

The tall man cuts in. “When the Church of Seiros sent you here, they placed a rather nefarious spell on the island as a whole.” He pulls a tome from an inside jacket of his robes. “If you see here,” he flips it open, tapping a particularly complicated looking crest. “Whenever a person exited the vicinity of this island by, say, 50 kilometeres, their memories of the island, and, consequently, you, were, for lack of a more succinct term, erased.” 

“If I had known,” Edelgard says, eyes wide and soft. “Dorothea, you have my deepest apologies for leaving you here all these years.” 

Dorothea takes the tome from the man, taking a closer look. “That’s some complicated magic, huh?”

“Indeed.” 

Dorothea glances up at Edelgard. “And you don’t need to apologize, Edie. How could you have known?” 

The man reaches down, pointing to a section of the crest. “As you can see here, the spell needs to be connected to a lifeform for it to function properly. In this case, it was connected to the Archbishop Rhea herself.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Dorothea mutters under her breath.

“As soon as she fell,” Ferdinand says. “The day after returning to the Monastery, we began to plan an expedition to come emancipate you.” 

“How the hells did you even find me?” Dorothea asks. 

“That was me,” the tall man says.

“Oh, yes. Hubert was the key,” Ferdinand says. The other man, who must be Hubert, turns away and brushes a lock of hair off his forehead with one hand. “Edelgard and I simply described the climate and plants on the island to him in detail, and he was able to determine what sector of the ocean you dwelled in. After that, it was smooth sailing, in the literal and figurative sense.”

“I…” Dorothea trails off, giving her head a shake. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around this one.” 

“Take your time,” Edelgard invites, and Hubert gives a small bow in agreement. “If you’d like, you can return to Fódlan with us, and I will personally assist you with whatever you need until you get back on your feet. The world has changed, Dorothea. You’re safe now.” 

The next hour passes in a trance. It’s only when Dorothea’s clothing and sparse other few possessions have been wrapped in cloth and packed away into the recesses of the rowboat that it feels real. 

Soon enough, Dorothea is crowded onto the rickety boat with her three companions, sitting across from Edelgard as Ferdinand and Hubert row the boat. 

“Edie, darling,” Dorothea says tentatively. “Is there… anyone else on the boat?”

“You mean anyone else who remembers you?” Edelgard raises a teasing eyebrow. “Sir Galatea, perhaps?”

“They were knighted?” Dorothea claps her hands together. 

Edelgard laughs, somehow maintaining perfect posture in the rocking boat. “Yes, of course. Merely a week after the war ended, mind you.” She pauses. “They’re on the boat, terribly seasick. They insisted on coming; however, they wanted to see you.” 

Dorothea sits back, a small smile fighting to turn into a grin blooming on her face. 

She’s not used to the wooden planks of a ship under her feet, of the whistling ocean wind against her face, so similar and yet so different from the breeze that washes over her from the shore. It still hasn’t sunk in, not entirely, and she's not sure how long her brain will take to catch up.

She thinks it's Edelgard joining her at the bow of the ship until she turns. They're not Edelgard - this person has short hair instead of long, breeches instead of a skirt, green eyes instead of lavender. 

They offer her a wry smile. "Hey." 

"Well, well, well," Dorothea shifts, leaning back against the rail on her elbows. "Nice to see you again, darling Ingrid. Or, shall I say, Sir Galatea."

Ingrid ducks their head. Dorothea longs to reach out, to tilt their chin up and see their shy smile in all its sunshiney glory.

"You feeling okay?" Dorothea asks. "Edie told me you were a little seasick." 

"Goddess, no," Ingrid says, mirroring Dorothea's position. "I feel like shit."

Dorothea laughs. "So long as you do it over the side."

Ingrid snorts. 

"So you did it, huh?" Dorothea says after a moment's pause.

"Hm?" 

"Followed your dreams. Became a knight."

Ingrid looks up, squinting at the horizon. "Not how I thought I would, but yes. I did." 

"I'm happy for you." Dorothea's heart leaps when the smile she offers Ingrid is readily returned. 

They sit in silence for a moment. Dorothea slides her eyes closed, relishing in the salt air surrounding her, the warmth of Ingrid beside her, the future before her. 

"I'm sorry," Ingrid says. "For forgetting." 

Dorothea shrugs it off. "Not your fault."

"But still." 

Dorothea feels the brush of fingers against her palm. 

"I missed you," Ingrid blurts out, their pinky curling around Dorothea's. "Even if I didn't remember who you were." They turn their gaze to the sky. "I always felt like there was something missing, you know? Like there was something that just didn't fit right." 

Dorothea turns her hand into Ingrid's, interlocking their fingers together. "I missed you, too. More than anyone else." 

"There's, um, no pressure or anything," Ingrid says, and when Dorothea turns, they're biting their lip, looking down. "But when we're back in Enbarr…" 

Dorothea nudges them with her elbow. "Yeah?" 

"Want to, um, go to dinner? Or something?" 

"I'd love to, darling Ingrid." 

"Really?" 

"Really."

And when Ingrid leans in, brushing a kiss against her cheek, Dorothea's heart unfurls, the feeling of something blooming in her chest, something open, something new. 

Something free. 

**Author's Note:**

> [@bizzybee429 on twitter](https://twitter.com/bizzybee429) [@officialferdinand on tumblr](http://officialferdinand.tumblr.com)


End file.
